A Certain Flair for Business
by ty.soglasna
Summary: Fred and George need to test their new line of products, but both their potential test subjects walked out on them. No matter. They'll do what they have to do to; it's for the shop. Twincest.


Disclaimer: I do not own, nor make money from, anything related to Harry Potter or the twins. No aspersion is intended upon anyone's character; this is a work of pure fiction written for fun and not profit.

Notes: This is not in any way related to my other twincest fic, Communication. The sequel for that's still in the works. However, this was a plot bunny that would just not leave me alone, and people like reading about siblings having sex, right? Right. Awesome.

A Certain Flair For Business

Fred and George Weasley were businessmen first and foremost, and they prided themselves on being rather good ones, at that. So when they saw the demand for their immensely popular WonderWitch line of products skyrocket, they took the next logical step: intimate aids. It made perfect sense, and they even had that unused side room in the shop to house the new line. All that remained was to come up with a witty name for the line, the development of some actual products, and of course, testing and refining the products themselves until they met the high standard of quality that people had come to expect from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes name.

The first two were quickly pulled off without a hitch (when the twins put their minds to something, it usually happened), but they ran into unexpected difficulties on the last one.

"What do you mean, you won't help us test the new products?"

"I mean just what I said, Fred Weasley. I _refuse_ to let you bring anything from your shop into my bedroom, so you'd just as better stop trying to convince me," Angelina said in response to Fred's incredulous questioning.

"What if we did it here?" Fred tried, hopefully. The twins' flat definitely wasn't her bedroom.

"No." Angelina was starting to look stormy.

"In your living room?"

"I said _no_."

"In the –"

"Let me clarify, Fred. I am not letting any of your products – experimental or otherwise – go anywhere within a twenty foot radius of my naked body. Understand?"

"Well, you could have some clothes on if you really wanted to, I guess," said Fred, trying to lighten the mood.

"_No!_"

"Ok, ok, alright, have it your way. It's your loss…" Fred backed off, knowing by now that it was better not to contradict his on-again, off-again girlfriend when she got that look in her eyes. He threw a beseeching glance to his brother sitting next to him on the couch. They had wanted to try to avoid errors by having more than one couple test the products, but it looked like it was all up to George and Katie now. George rolled his eyes at Fred and turned to face Katie, who was sitting with Angelina on the small loveseat, the only other seating furniture that would fit in the twins' tiny living room.

"Look, Katie," he said, opting for a confidential, convincing approach. "The products are perfectly safe; we know enough to avoid any dangerous side effects; we just need to test them in real life to make sure they work right. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes prides itself for truth in advertising, and we've always been able to stand behind our goods one hundred percent. So what do you say? You have no idea how much you'd be helping us. And I promise it'll be fun, too." George waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

But Katie had apparently been paying more attention to Fred and Angelina's argument than George's persuasion. "I don't think so, no." She crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I like my sex non-magically enhanced, thank you very much."

George didn't give up. "Aw, come on, Katie. It won't be any different than regular, just…better. What possible reason could you have not to do it?"

Fred doubted that anyone would be able to say no to George when he used that tone of voice. Katie, however, seemed determined to find a way.

"I – Angelina and I are lesbians!" She pulled a surprised Angelina into an awkward embrace, and sat there radiating righteous indignation.

"No we're not –" Angelina mumbled, but she was cut off when Katie's hand stifled her words in what was probably supposed to look like a gesture of passion.

"We were too scared to say it before, but we're not afraid anymore! Angelina and I love each other, and we've – we've decided to give up men for good! So that's why I can't help you test your products," she finished triumphantly.

"Oh. Are you _sure_?" George looked flabbergasted, and Fred knew exactly how he felt. _Lesbians?_

"Yes!" said Angelina, peeling Katie's hand off her mouth. "We've never been more sure of anything in our lives, right, Katie? And now that we've told you and gotten that off our chests, we're going to have to leave right now and – and have lots of hot, pure, and unenhanced lesbian sex!"

She grabbed Katie, who appeared to be having some trouble digesting this announcement, and pulled her bodily off the couch. Katie seemed to catch on a moment later, and they practically ran out of the flat.

They heard a call of "Bye, Fred, George, and thank you anyway!" from the street, and then the double crack of apparition that signaled the girls' departure.

The twins did not remain stymied for long, though. When fate deprived them of their chosen test subjects, they simply summoned their Gryffindor fortitude and turned to their earliest, and most faithful, subjects: each other.

The decision wasn't one that filled them with joy, obviously – the products were _intimate_ aids, after all, and it wasn't like they had done anything like that since they were thirteen and mutually decided they needed to learn how to kiss – but the only way to handle a situation like this was just to barrel through it and not think too much. There had never been much embarrassment between them anyway, being twins and exactly alike, and all. Right.

And it was for the shop, anyway, and that would justify pretty much anything up to murder. Maybe even including, depending on who it was and what it would get them. But that wasn't the point. The point was that this wasn't about them, it was about the shop, and they were businessmen above all. Desperate times calling for desperate measures, and the show much go on, and the like.

Which was what was going through Fred's mind as he picked up the tea cups and brought them into the kitchen, and he assumed that his brother was thinking the same thing. Although he was probably also thinking something along the lines of _there's no time like the present_, if the way he was rummaging around in the supply room was any indication.

"Found it!" came his muffled voice from within the room (which was always in a state more or less equivalent to utter chaos), and he emerged carrying the box of their newest prototypes and beaming.

Fred followed him into the bedroom, wondering why it was so hard not to follow his own advice and not think about it too much.

George set the box down with an oomph – it was surprisingly heavy for only being half full – and turned to Fred.

"Well, should you go first, or shall I?"

"Huh – go first?"

George rolled his eyes. His brother had obviously come to the same conclusion as he had, that there was nothing for it but to run the tests on themselves, but he didn't seem to have adopted the right blustering, business-like attitude that would let them get through it without ruining the whole thing with self-consciousness.

"Yeah, I figured we'd start with the –" He pulled the top item out of the box, a squat ointment tub labeled in his own messy scrawl. "- reciprocal massaging oil, and work up from there. Shouldn't take us more than an hour or two, if we work fast."

Fred nodded resignedly and took the container. "I'll do this one then, if you'll do the next."

"Sounds like a plan." George stripped off his shirt with bravado that took itself for ease, and threw himself onto the bed face-down. "If it ends up causing unbearable agony, the safeword is 'Fred Weasley drools in his sleep.'"

Fred knelt on the bed next to him. "Tosser. That's not even one word."

"Oh, fine, have it your way, boring mcboringpants. 'Banana,' then."

Fred rolled his eyes. "I don't see why we even need a safeword, it's not like this is going to stop you from being able to say 'ow' or 'stop' or whatever."

"Because it's more fun this way," George said, as if it were totally obvious. Fred thought he heard a muttered _mcboringpants_ too, but he didn't press the matter. Like George had said, if they worked quickly, they could get this over with and behind them in a couple of hours.

Fred unscrewed the bottle and began to distribute the bright green viscous liquid – calling it an oil was a bit of a misnomer, he thought, but then no one had heard of massage _goo_ – over his brother's back, and he shivered at the unexpected cool, slimy sensation. It wasn't called Reciprocal Massage Oil for nothing; they had designed it so that the oil (or goo, or whatever) would transmit the feeling of the massager's hands to his or her own body, so that both parties would get the enjoyment from one massage.

Fred ran a finger experimentally down George's spine, causing his brother to squirm, and himself to shiver again, as a very realistic sensation of his own finger traveled down his own spine. If he didn't already know better, he would have been sorely tempted to look around and see who was touching him.

This was one of the first products within that line that the twins had developed, after finding that they both shared the same frustration with their respective girlfriends. Girls, it seemed, enjoyed getting massages, and were blithely unconcerned when it was pointing out that their partner was getting precisely nothing at all out of kneading interminably at their feet or shoulders. However, the problem evaporated if the pressed boyfriend (or girlfriend) got out of it precisely what they put in.

And, George claimed, it would help people give better massages if they could actually feel what they were doing. He had apparently had some trouble with Katie pinching his muscles too hard or something and then claiming she wasn't doing anything of the kind, but that was a story that Fred hadn't made George elaborate on.

Still, they hadn't bargained on how _creepy_ the feeling of invisible hands on your skin (even your own) was before you got used to it.

"That good?" he asked George as he dug into his tense shoulder muscles, struggling to keep from tensing up as he felt the pressure on his own.

"Oh, _maybe_…why don't you tell me?" said George.

"Just trying to stick to our rigorous testing standards," Fred grunted as he gave another push that resonated in both their shoulders.

"Mmf, s'fine," mumbled George, and they fell into silence.

Fred gradually fell into a sort of trance of concentration, but he realized that what he liked about it wasn't so much the release he received as the echoes of his hands soothed away the kinks and tension in his back, but watching George.

Fred could see how certain motions made George relax further into the bed, and how others made him minutely tense up, as though Fred had hit a tender spot. And occasionally, something Fred did would make him let out an inaudible sigh. Fred, being able to feel everything, had a pretty good idea of what it was, and repeated it, running his fingers hard down either side of George's spine, from the base of his neck all the way down. George sighed again, and Fred grinned.

"D'you think you should turn over now, so we can test out what happens if someone tries to use this for something other than backrubs?"

"Guess so," George grunted, and heaved himself over, folding his arms behind his head. Fred saw that he still had his eyes closed, and poked him.

"Don't fall asleep, now," he admonished as he applied another layer of the green stuff, and shuddered. It _tickled_.

"I'm not going to fall asleep." George sounded a little peeved. "I'm just concentrating."

Fred shrugged and continued with the testing. Well, to be honest, his motives for asking his brother to turn over weren't entirely for the sake of the testing; he also really wanted to see what other little sounds he could coax out of George. It was entrancing.

As it turned out, George made a little purring sound when someone touched his nipple in just the right way, though again Fred wouldn't have heard it if he weren't paying attention. He wondered idly if _he_ made such a sound, and found he didn't know.

After a bit more exploration – nothing produced such a satisfying result, so far as Fred could tell at this point, though the area around George's bellybutton seemed to be rather sensitive – he contented himself to play his fingers in the light hairs coating George's chest, and watching the subtle ways his face changed.

Fred's hand had meandered down toward the region of his brother's waist again when George cracked his eyes open and looked his watch.

"Shouldn't that stuff have worn off by now?"

"Oh, yeah," said Fred, feeling guilty and hoping that his brother wouldn't realize how long he had been going after the magic wore off. What had he been thinking, to get carried away like that? George gave him a funny look, but when Fred didn't meet his eyes, he looked away.

"Guess that means it's your turn," Fred mumbled, and was glad that George didn't seem ready to make much of it. "What's next?"

"Uh, body frosting, I think," said George. This differed from regular frosting only in that it wouldn't melt in contact with body heat, and they planned to carry it in a much larger variety of flavors than cake frostings usually came in. Fred got the tube out and tossed it to George, and furtively wondered why they had given up so easily on looking for other subjects. He and George were really going to have to test _everything_.

"This has got to go," George muttered almost to himself, tugging on Fred's shirt. He helped lift the shirt off, and complied with his trousers only after insisting that George doff his as well; he didn't want to feel over-exposed.

He tried to keep to a purely clinical, empirical mindset as George applied himself enthusiastically to the testing of the frosting, but it was so hard when George was using his tongue on his skin, and it just felt so _good._ He supposed that they must have done something right, because he found himself getting increasingly turned on. The sight of George kneeling over him and licking frosting off his naked body may have had something to do with it, too.

And then George clambered up and straddled Fred's legs to get a better angle, and Fred had to force his eyes closed and simply focus on willing his arousal away. He hoped that George wouldn't notice anything. He was applying swirls of the sweet stuff to Fred's chest now, and Fred didn't think that any amount of eyelid-squeezing would be enough to keep the growing onslaught of sensation at bay for long.

Fred was doing pretty well, however, until George leaned in and started sucking, and Fred found out (sooner than he would have liked) that yes, he did make that sound when you did things to his nipples. And George just kept doing it, and Fred couldn't help himself, and blast it, if he kept that up much longer than Fred would be driven to do something unfortunate. He forced an eye open.

"George." He cleared his throat. "George, you got it all, why are you still –"

George looked up and Fred gulped. "What? You didn't stop when it wore off, did you?" He bent his head down, enclosing the pebbled flesh in his mouth once more, and sent his tongue around lazily, as though to prove the point. Fred was a hair's breadth away from losing control.

George met his eyes again, and Fred could tell that he was in exactly the same state. George took the half-empty tube of frosting and deliberately squeezed some out onto his thumb, and then, without looking away from Fred's eyes for one second, slowly reached up and smudged it across his lower lip.

"You've got a little something there –" he said, already leaning in. And then they kissed. It tasted of coffee at first, and the release it gave was like a wave breaking on shore. You can't build up the tension that long without something happening to relieve it, and happen it did. George kissed Fred like there was no tomorrow, and Fred responded with the same vigor, reaching up to pull George in closer still in a grip that must have been half-painful. George didn't seem to mind as he pressed closer in, and then sat down in Fred's lap, leaving no room for doubt that he hadn't noticed Fred's arousal earlier.

They broke the kiss only when they were both gasping for breath, and Fred met George's wild eyes. "Think… we should see... what else there is to test?" he panted, and George assented eagerly, sprawling over Fred's half-prone body to reach the box on the floor.

Fred gasped in something like surprise when George's hardness brushed against his own growing erection, and then lifted his hips in approval. George chuckled deep in his throat and ground back down in response, and then emerged from the box a second later, clutching a jar of lube and grinning triumphantly.

"Found it! You do like raspberry, don't you? Because if you don't, I could…"

"George." Fred put his hand on his twin's and pushed it gently down. "It doesn't matter, I don't want that." He dangled an arm into the box, and found what he wanted after minimal rummaging. _Scintillating Slide, _read the label on the side of the golden bottle of lubricant, and the liquid within almost seemed to sparkle in the light. They had designed this one for one thing, and one thing only.

"I don't want that," he repeated, speaking almost directly into his twin's ear, "Because I want you to fuck me."

George's eyes blazed. "Fuck, yes," he proclaimed fervently, and then chuckled at the double entendre. He was already dragging down his boxers and making an attempt at Fred's at the same time, but he paused as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle.

"Are you – are you sure you want this?" he asked sincerely, searching Fred's face.

"Completely, totally, unequivocally, cross my heart and swear to die if you don't fuck me now sure," Fred growled impatiently, and wriggled to finish what George had started on the boxers.

George's fingers were tangling with his hair the next moment to bring him into another bruising kiss, and he mumbled something incoherent into it that must have been gratitude. Then George started trying to apply lube to himself, and he howled.

"Ah, bloody hell!" He jumped up and began toweling his cock off on the sheet as though his life depended on it, and Fred propped himself up on one elbow to watch.

"What was that?"

"This was supposed to be 'warm and gently tingly,' right?" George demanded. Fred nodded. "Well, try it out yourself if you're so curious," he said, casting the bottle a dark look.

Fred experimentally took a dab of the sparkly stuff and spread it on his forearm, and nearly jumped himself. It felt far more like white hot pins and needles than gentle anything. Actually, that was exactly what it felt like. Fred took a corner of sheet and surreptitiously wiped himself off before George saw him wince. He could only imagine what it must feel like on more sensitive parts.

"Think we got that one a tiny bit too strong…"

George grinned, rather painfully. "Yeah. Bit less intense next time, perhaps. I'm okay though; it seems to wear off pretty quick. Just give me a minute more…" George sat back on his heels and began to wait. His patience was short, however. "Fuck this," he breathed, and practically dove back on top of Fred again. Apparently even fifteen seconds of watching his naked and very obviously still aroused twin lying out in front of him had been too much.

"I think there's some…vegetable oil…in this kitchen. Heard it works…in a pinch –" Fred gasped out as his face and neck were assaulted with fevered kisses from George. Then George's fingers wormed their way between Fred's arse cheeks, seeking his entrance, and Fred took matters into his own hands.

"Accio Vegetable Oil!" he said in a commanding voice, reaching out with his free hand, and the large bottle came sailing in from the kitchen and hit him on the head. He had always been bollocks at wandless magic beyond a few of the simplest spells, but it always came easier when there was a real need. A certain loss of precision was an entirely acceptable side effect.

"Here, use this," he said to George, who had taken the opportunity while Fred was distracted to work one finger partway into his unyielding opening.

George gave the bottle a skeptical look before he poured a generous pool of the yellow liquid into the palm of his hand, but all he said was, "You're absolutely not allowed to use this for cooking after, understand?"

Fred convulsed in laughter at this, but stilled again immediately when George put his oil-dipped finger back where it had been. It was warm, and very slick now, and as soon as it was in George started pressing with another. Fred whined, but not from pain; he doubted his brother could do anything down there that would really hurt him. It was just so _intense_, and so _different_, and if this was what just two fingers felt like…

Fred shuddered when George added a third, but then he began to move them around, inexorably slow but so strange inside him, and _good_, somehow. Fred didn't think he could take it much longer, and expressed as much to George.

"Speed _up_, you bastard, I'm not going to break."

George's laugh came from deep within his stomach, and he obligingly sped up.

"Ah, ah, ok, that's good now, you could even slow down if you wanted –" Fred clung to George's shoulders, but George paused to push him back down on the bed.

"Calm down, Fred, just relax. It won't work unless you're relaxed." George's free hand, the one he had held the oil in, reached down and grasped Fred's cock and began to stroke lazily up and down, and Fred began to get the idea, that yes, he could quite easily relax, and it wasn't so bad at all, and especially if George kept doing _that_…

George might have added a fourth finger, and he had definitely started moving inside again, but Fred honestly hardly noticed or cared through his haze of pleasure. He did notice when George removed all of the fingers though, leaving him feeling unexpectedly cold and empty all of a sudden.

"Hey!"

"Shh, it's ok. Are you_ sure_ about this?" George was spreading his legs and arranging them so that they stayed open, and Fred felt rather exposed and windy down there. He wanted George back.

"A thousand times, yes! I'm ready," he assured, and pulled George down into one more hungry kiss.

"Well here goes nothing then…" George's grin was somewhat clouded by the lust in his eyes, but Fred didn't think it was a bad look on him. It looked dangerous and cute all at one time, almost –

And then he felt George's slick cockhead brushing against his ring, and it was as though nerve endings he didn't know existed woke up. And George didn't stop, but just kept going, in and in and still in, and Fred just focused on breathing. When he was about three times farther in than Fred thought he had any reason to be, George stopped and paused, breathing heavily himself.

"Good?"

"Just give me a minute," gasped Fred, who thought it might not be possible to get used to this feeling of stretching verging on pain, but even as he said it, it was already getting better.

"Just tell me if it ever starts hurting, ok?" George ran his hands over Fred's chest and arms as if driven to be in constant motion over his skin.

"Yeah, 'm good now," Fred murmured, and he thought he was. He inhaled sharply when George began to steadily move out, but he urged him on with groping hands on his back, and George got the picture. They weren't twins for nothing, after all.

After the second trip back in – George was really taking his time – Fred began to think that it might be possible to get used to this. It wasn't bad at all really, just strange. And George's face above him was something else to watch; if he had thought it was interesting earlier then that was only because he hadn't yet seen it like this. George opened his eyes, which had been shut tight in concentration, and gave that lusty half-grin again, and something inside Fred melted. George was watching Fred watch George fucking Fred, and it just seemed so right, and they might have even fallen deeper into each other's gaze if George, still moving steadily, hadn't brushed on something like fire, deep within Fred. Then Fred _really_ melted.

George must have noticed, because he did it again, and Fred moaned, and George did it again, and then all slowness was forgotten as they chased after the fire, Fred canting his hips up to meet George when he didn't thrust fast enough. It was like running, or flying, only so much better.

They were both grunting with the effort, and George had to prop himself up with both hands on the bed. His teeth were bared now and his face screwed up into a mask of concentration that could definitely not be called cute, and Fred knew he was close. Hell, Fred was too, and nothing was even happening to his prick.

He reached down between their sweaty bodies and grasped himself, the mingled precome and sweat providing all the lubrication he needed, and began to move his hand in time to his brother's urgent thrusts. That did it for him, and his orgasm ripped through him suddenly and without warning. He could feel himself contracting around George, who stilled and cried out, his hips jerking a few times as he spilled himself inside Fred.

A moment later, he rolled off Fred and sprawled next to him, looking utterly sated.

Fred spent a few moments catching his breath and enjoying the afterglow – and letting his legs get used to being in a regular position again – before he rolled onto his side and grinned at George.

"Was that good for you?" he asked, all mock seriousness.

George looked at him askance and shoved at his shoulder before answering in the same tone. "Why, I've never had better. You?"

"The same," said Fred, and snuggled into his brother's side. "Though I think we still have a lot more work to do." He glanced suggestively at the box, and George groaned.

"Almost forgot about that. Well, at least now we know it's not particularly hard work." He cracked a grin.

"Not hard work? On the contrary." The twins stared at each other, and then dissolved into laughter.

"Well, hard or not, I'm quite looking forward to it," said George, when they had stopped laughing. "As long as it's with you."

Fred rolled his eyes but pulled George closer into the embrace. "What, you mean you don't want to have another go at getting Katie and Angelina to help us?"

"You know what I mean," George warned.

And Fred did, and George knew that he did, really. He was quite looking forward to the next round of product testing already.

Wow, so fluffy it hurts. Why do I do this to myself?? Also, I believe this is the longest sex scene I've ever written in any pairing. There are no words.

Reviews equal all sorts of steamy hot twintastic love!!


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